As they travelled, the weight of what they had faced still clung to them. The Harbinger. The dead. The destruction. It wasn't the silence that spoke first, but Valen, his voice quieter than usual, lacking its usual bite.
"That thing... what was it?" he asked. "The Harbinger. It wasn't just another mindless force of destruction, was it?"
Luken and Nyra glanced toward Thal, waiting. Even Tar's heavy gaze lingered on him.
Thal walked a few paces ahead, his shoulders squared, expression unreadable. "No," he said simply. "It wasn't."
When he didn't continue, Nyra's tone sharpened. "But you knew that, didn't you?" Her eyes narrowed. "You were immune to its miasma. You ripped through it like it was nothing. What aren't you telling us?"
Thal stopped. Slowly, he turned to face them, his gaze sweeping over each one in turn. Then he gave a slow nod. "I know more than I've said. And I will tell you when the time comes. But for now, know this what you did back there... it mattered." His eyes met theirs, one by one. "The Harbinger would have consumed that city if not for you."
For a moment, no one spoke. The wind carried the faint echo of distant ruin behind them Kel, still smouldering.
"...Thanks," Thal said, almost a whisper. The word sat awkward on his tongue.
Nyra blinked, clearly surprised, before giving a small huff and crossing her arms. "Damn right it would've."
Valen scoffed. "Didn't think I'd hear you say that."
Luken smiled faintly, but his eyes lingered on Thal longer than the others before he turned his gaze ahead again.
The silence that followed felt earned. They walked in it, letting the weight of their survival breathe through the gaps in conversation. Eventually, Luken broke it.
"So, where to first?"
Thal didn't hesitate. "An Archon."
Nyra tensed. "Already?"
"They won't wait for us to be ready," Thal said. "The longer we take, the worse this gets. We start with the Archon of Rot. He's further south."
At the mention of the name, something passed through the group a low ripple of unease. None of them had fought an Archon before. They knew of them, yes, but knowing was a far cry from standing before one.
"Rot," Valen muttered. "Sounds promising."
Nyra rolled her shoulders, voice tight. "Guess we better get moving then."
Without another word, they pressed on. The road ahead stretched long and heavy beneath their feet. The sky darkened slowly, the air turning damp and close. Before long, the scent changed musty, thick, like wet leaves left to rot beneath years of decay. The trees grew twisted. Bark blackened, limbs reaching like claws. Vines gleamed wetly in the mist, and the fog itself began to coil around their ankles like living tendrils. The Shadowfern had welcomed them.
Valen broke the silence first. "So... this 'Archon of Rot.' What are we dealing with?"
Thal didn't answer right away. His eyes watched the fog ahead, the way it shifted unnaturally. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and firm. "They're still in the Shadowfern. And the forest... it's been affected. Whether the Archon is influencing the corruption or being influenced by it I don't know. But this place didn't always exist."
Nyra frowned. "What do you mean?"
Thal's breath left him slow. "The Shadowfern only appeared after the Harbingers arrived."
A heavy silence followed. Luken, Nyra, and Valen exchanged uneasy glances before Luken spoke.
"You're saying this whole place this cursed forest was created by them?"
Thal nodded. "Yes."
Luken ran a hand through his hair, scoffing. "I always knew this place was wrong, but I thought it was just... bad magic. A failed ritual. No one ever said where it came from. Just that it's always been dangerous."
"It hasn't always been here," Thal said, voice laced with certainty. "The Harbingers do more than destroy. They change the land itself. Corrupt it. Twist it. The Shadowfern is only one example."
Nyra crossed her arms. "You think there are others?"
Thal's eyes darkened. "There are."
That sent another uneasy ripple through the group.
"Where?" Valen asked.
Thal hesitated, then answered, "Where I lived. Up north. Hunter's Haunt."
Nyra tilted her head slightly. "You mean there's something like this up north too?"
Thal's jaw tightened. "The Harbingers affect everything they touch. The land. The people. Sometimes it's slow. Other times... not. The Shadowfern is just one of many places changed by them."
They walked in silence for a few more steps. Then Luken looked at him. "If the Archons are in places like this, does that mean they're using the Harbingers?"
Thal stopped again. He turned to Luken, his expression unreadable, but his voice left no room for doubt. "No. The Archons and the Harbingers are not the same. The Harbingers serve no one. They devour. They corrupt. The Archons... they are something else."
Luken raised a brow. "Then why is the Archon of Rot here? Isn't he gaining something from all this?"
Thal's gaze narrowed, and he nodded slowly. "Most likely. I wouldn't be surprised if he's using the corruption to his advantage. But don't mistake that for control. If anything, the corruption is using him."
That sent a chill through them all.
Nyra's voice dropped. "Great. So not only do we have an Archon to fight, but we have to walk through a forest warped by a Harbinger?"
Thal nodded again, his expression grim.
Valen let out a breathless laugh, dark and dry. "Of course. Why would it ever be easy?"
Ahead of them, the fog thickened. The trees closed in tighter, and the air pulsed faintly like the forest had been listening. And was now waiting.
As they trudged through the dense, fog laden underbrush of the Shadowfern, Nyra felt a weight settle in her chest. The towering, twisted trees stretched their gnarled limbs overhead, blotting out what little light the sky provided. The air was thick with dampness, carrying the distant cries of unseen creatures. Every step forward was met with the crunch of dead leaves and the occasional squelch of thick, marshy ground. The deeper they ventured, the more the darkness seemed to press in around them, swallowing sound, distorting movement. Even for a seasoned warrior like her, there was an unease here something more than just the oppressive atmosphere of the Shadowfern itself.
It was the thought of him.... Neo.
She had never given much thought to Hunters Haunt. She had lived with them for years, always thinking of it as her home with Thal, Neo, Tar and Tor. But now, after hearing that a harbinger is there.... she couldn't shake the gnawing anxiety in the back of her mind.
The Kruu'voth was strong, of that there was no doubt. He had a presence that could unnerve even the most battle hardened warriors, and his strength far exceeded that of any ordinary being. But even so... she couldn't help but worry.
Her gaze flickered toward the shadows stretching between the trees, as if expecting to see glowing red eyes peering back at her. She clenched her fists and exhaled, forcing herself to push past the fear. She wasn't the only one who noticed.
Thal, walking a few paces ahead, never once turned to face her, never broke stride, but his deep voice cut through the silence. "Neo can handle himself."
The simple statement carried a weight behind it, a certainty that should have been reassuring. But the way Thal said it calm, almost dismissive only left her feeling more unsettled. He had always been difficult to read, and right now, she wasn't sure if he was confident in Neo's survival or simply indifferent to it.
She wanted to believe Thal was right. She needed to believe it. But the unease didn't leave her.
She pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders and kept walking, forcing herself to ignore the prickle at the back of her neck, the creeping sensation that something unseen was watching them.
The sun, or what little of it could pierce through the gnarled canopy of the Shadowfern, was beginning its slow descent. The air grew cooler, the shadows longer, and the distant sounds of the forest seemed to change. The eerie silence was broken only by the crunch of boots against damp earth and the occasional rustle of unseen creatures in the underbrush.
Thal came to a sudden stop, his massive frame blocking the narrow path ahead. He turned his head slightly, sharp golden eyes scanning the twisted woods before speaking. "We need to find shelter soon."
Luken, who had been lagging behind, perked up at the suggestion, gripping his staff with both hands as if Thal's words had confirmed his own suspicions. "Is it for the Fernstalkers?" he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity but also a hint of unease.
Nyra barely registered the exchange. She was still deep in her thoughts, her mind trapped in an endless loop of worry over Neo and Hunter Haunt. Every shadow between the trees seemed to stretch toward her, and every whisper of wind sounded too much like a breath against the back of her neck. She knew better than to let fear take root, but this place it was different from any battlefield, any ruined kingdom, any forsaken land she had ever fought in. This place felt alive.
Valen, walking beside her, noticed her silence. He wasn't the most perceptive of their group Luken could read a battlefield, Thal could read a man, but Valen had always been more focused on the mission, on action. Yet something about Nyra's expression made him hesitate.
"You alright?" he asked, his voice quieter than usual, lacking its usual bluntness.
Nyra blinked, pulled from her daze. She hadn't even realized she had been staring at nothing, her fingers absentmindedly gripping the hilt of her axe.
"Yeah," she said, shaking her head slightly. "Just thinking." Tar walked beside her and placed his massive hand on her shoulder.
Valen didn't look convinced, but he didn't press. Instead, he glanced toward Thal, then back at Luken.
"Fernstalkers, huh?" he muttered, rolling his shoulders. "Can't say I've ever seen one, but I'd rather not find out what happens when we do."
The shadows deepened as the day waned, and the weight of the Shadowfern pressed down on them all. Whatever was out there Fernstalkers or something far worse they needed to find shelter soon.
Their journey through the Shadowfern led them into places that defied reason. The deeper they ventured, the more the world around them twisted into something other.
A river flowed beside them, yet there was no source, no beginning to its ceaseless, blackened current. The water moved too smoothly, almost sentient in its quiet murmurs, reflecting no light, no sky just an abyss of writhing shadows.
Towering rock formations jutted from the ground in jagged, unnatural angles, like the petrified remains of something ancient trying to claw its way free. Some leaned so precariously that a single misstep might bring them toppling down, but they never did. They remained frozen in a moment of collapse that never came.
The air itself was thick, heavy, laden with the cloying sweetness of rot and decay. It clung to their throats, making each breath feel like it carried something living into their lungs. The scent was not just that of death, but something worse something digesting.
Nyra shuddered. The sensation of being watched was overwhelming now. Every twisted root and gnarled branch seemed to shift when they weren't looking.
Then, beneath their feet, the ground pulsed. It was faint, rhythmic, as if the very earth had a heartbeat.
Nyra stopped mid step, eyes widening. "Did you feel that?" she whispered.
Luken's grip on his staff tightened. Valen cursed under his breath. Even Thal, who had walked through countless horrors without hesitation, had his jaw set tighter than before. The Shadowfern was alive. And it was waiting.
The forest seemed to breathe around them, its oppressive weight pressing down with every step they took. The deeper they ventured into the Shadowfern, the less the light seemed to reach, as if the trees themselves sought to hoard it. The twisted branches above loomed like skeletal fingers, their gnarled forms stretching across the sky in a suffocating embrace.
Thal's gaze swept the terrain ahead, his expression unreadable. He had traversed this place before perhaps not this exact stretch of cursed land, but the signs were all the same. The Shadowfern was a predator in its own right, and the sooner they found shelter, the better.
"A cave would be ideal," he muttered, his voice low, barely audible over the eerie quiet. "Before the Fernstalkers come... and the creatures of the Fern itself."
Luken, who had been walking slightly ahead, slowed his pace at the mention of the Fernstalkers. He tightened his grip on his staff and turned to face Thal. "That's what this is about, then? The Fernstalkers?"
Thal didn't respond immediately. His silence was answer enough.
Valen, walking beside Nyra, glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She was still quiet, her gaze flicking from shadow to shadow as if expecting something to emerge. He said nothing, but he was watching her closely.
The path ahead wound through a series of uneven rock formations, their surfaces slick and pulsing with a faint luminescence, as if veins of some unknown substance ran through them. The ground beneath their feet was soft, shifting slightly with each step, and the sensation sent a shiver down Nyra's spine.
Then, the first set of glowing yellow eyes appeared in the darkness.
They were distant at first, barely noticeable amid the shifting gloom. Then another pair flickered into view. And another. The Fernstalkers were watching.
From the shadows, they emerged sleek, black forms that blended almost seamlessly with their surroundings. Their bodies were unnaturally elongated, their limbs too thin, too stretched, yet disturbingly graceful. Jagged spines ran down their backs, shifting and twitching as they moved.
One of them let out a low, guttural growl, and the others followed suit.
"They haven't transformed yet," Thal said, his voice calm but firm. "We move now." No one argued. They quickened their pace, eyes darting between the looming rock formations, searching for any sign of shelter.
The Fernstalkers didn't charge not yet. They simply stalked, slipping in and out of sight, their movements calculated. They were waiting. Waiting for the sun to fall completely, for the night to take hold. Because when night came, they would change and there would be no escaping them then.
Valen took a sharp breath. "Tell me we have a plan, Thal."
"A cave," Thal repeated. "There's always a cave." And then he saw it just beyond the next rise, half hidden behind a cluster of jagged rock formations. A dark opening, barely wide enough to notice if one weren't searching for it. "Go," he commanded.
They broke into a run, the Fernstalkers' growls growing louder behind them. The moment their prey fled, the creatures gave chase.
The ground seemed to stretch and shift beneath them, as if trying to pull them back. The cave was close, but the Fernstalkers were faster. They reached the entrance just as the last light of the sun bled from the sky and behind them, the howls of something changing filled the air.
The cave entrance loomed ahead, a jagged maw carved into the rock, its dark depths promising shelter. Thal and Tar were already moving, their massive forms nothing but shadows against the dimming light as they sprinted forward. Their heavy footfalls sent tremors through the damp earth.
"Move!" Thal barked, his voice sharp, urgent. He and Tar did not wait for the others. They reached the cave mouth first, and without hesitation, they raised their massive hands and began to tear at the rock, pulling it apart as though carving out more space no, they were preparing to break it down, collapse the entrance before anything could get in.
Nyra, Luken, and Valen barely made it inside before the horror began.
A low, unnatural sound rippled through the forest behind them. A deep, resonant churning, like the gurgling of something vast and bloated beneath the earth. It wasn't just a growl it was the land itself groaning.
Then, the Fernstalkers began to change.
At first, it was just a shift in their stance. Their limbs elongating, their sleek, wolflike forms growing taller, unnatural. The jagged spines along their backs jutted out, twisting into cruel, serrated protrusions. Their glowing yellow eyes burned hotter, their pupils stretching into thin, vertical slits, then the land moved with them.
The blackened river behind them rippled, sluggish and thick, its surface bubbling as if something deep beneath was exhaling. The trees leaned unnaturally, bending toward the pack, their trunks contorting like writhing serpents. Thick, gnarled roots slithered forward as if offering themselves to the creatures and then the pack... fused.
Their bodies slammed together in a grotesque collision of bone, muscle, and sinew. Limbs stretched, tore, reformed. Their spines cracked and re knitted, forming a singular, towering shape. Their howls melded into one, rising in a discordant shriek that made the very air tremble.
A singular, horrifying figure stood in the ruin of what had once been a dozen Fernstalkers now a Threshen.
It loomed, impossibly tall, its elongated body wrapped in sinewy muscle and tattered flesh. Its skull like face, stretched too long, bore rows of jagged, uneven teeth. Empty sockets bled with sickly light as its head twitched, twisting at an unnatural angle. Its fingers too many of them curled and flexed, each tipped with claws like obsidian shards.
Nyra's breath hitched, her heart slamming against her ribs. Luken was frozen, his grip on his staff unsteady. Valen's face was pale, his usual cocky demeanour utterly absent. Thal and Tar didn't hesitate.
They tore at the cave entrance with their bare hands, gripping massive slabs of rock and ripping them down, trying to force the entrance to collapse. Dust and debris rained down around them, the sound of stone grinding against stone barely audible over the guttural, inhuman shrieks outside.
"Faster!" Nyra gasped, stumbling back, her legs refusing to move properly.
The Threshen took a step forward. The earth beneath it cracked, the blackened river twisting toward its feet like an obedient pet. It was coming. Its mouth gaped open wider than it should have been able to, the sound of rattling bones pouring from its throat.
Thal snarled, veins bulging in his arms as he wrenched another slab free and slammed it down. Tar worked beside him, muscles flexing like iron cables as they pulled down chunks of rock, one after the other but it wasn't enough and the Threshen charged.
The ground shuddered violently as the massive creature lunged forward on all fours, its elongated fingers digging into the earth, pulling itself closer at an unnatural speed.
Nyra let out a cry. Luken barely managed to raise his staff. Valen stumbled back, hands shaking.
And then just as the Threshen was mere feet from the cave a crash.... violent, deafening, final. Wood splintered, stone cracked, and air turned to shrapnel as the impact tore through the silence. The final boulder fell into place.
A wall of stone slammed down over the entrance just as the Threshen's claws reached for them. Its talons scraped against the rock, a hideous screech reverberating through the cave as it raked against the surface, just inches from where Thal and Tar had stood.
Darkness swallowed them whole. For a moment, there was silence, then a hollow, wheezing breath. The Threshen was still outside it was waiting.
Nyra clenched her fists, forcing herself to steady her breathing. The others were motionless, listening, waiting for any sign that it would leave. But it didn't. The creature knew they were inside. And it wasn't going anywhere. Not until it was fed.
The silence in the cave was suffocating, thick with the weight of what they had just witnessed. Dust still hung in the air from the collapse, swirling in faint streams where the dim light of their magic and weapons barely reached. The sounds outside had faded, but the presence the overwhelming, gut wrenching dread remained.
Nyra's breath was shallow, her hands trembling slightly as she ran them through her hair. "What " she swallowed, her voice barely above a whisper, "What the hell was that?"
Valen exhaled sharply, gripping his sword like a lifeline. He was always quick with some remark, a joke to lighten the mood but not now. His jaw was tight, his face pale. "That wasn't a Fernstalker anymore," he muttered. "It became something else. Something worse." His eyes flicked toward Thal. "You knew what that was."
Thal stood at the edge of the group, his massive frame still tense, his hands still dusted with the crumbling remains of the cave's entrance. He didn't look shaken not the way they were but there was something in his expression. Something unreadable.
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he exhaled through his nose and turned to face them fully.
"A Threshen," he said simply.
Nyra and Valen exchanged glances. The name meant nothing to them. It wasn't some beast they'd encountered in their hunts, not some story passed down through the villages.
"A Threshen?" Nyra repeated. "I've never heard of that."
"Neither have I," Valen admitted, his grip on his sword tightening.
Luken, however, went stiff. His hands, which had been clutching his staff, twitched. His usually sharp, inquisitive eyes widened slightly as he stared at Thal. "A Threshen," he echoed, more to himself than the others. His fingers tightened around his staff. "I've read about them... but only in pieces. The name exists in old texts, but there's no real history. No confirmed origin. Just scattered records rumours, warnings. The scholars who wrote about them never even agreed on what they were, only that they shouldn't exist."
Nyra turned to him, heart still hammering in her chest. "Then what is it?"
Luken hesitated. "No one knows," he admitted. "The oldest accounts describe them as spirits of hunger. Beings that consume not just flesh, but something deeper. Some records claim they were once people, twisted by starvation and desperation. Others say they're something older, something that became part of the land itself. But there's no proof, no firsthand accounts." He swallowed. "Because no one who sees a Threshen lives to tell about it."
A chill settled over the group, even with the warmth of their breath fogging in the damp air of the cave. Thal remained quiet. Watching. Listening.
Outside, the faintest sound echoed through the stone slow, deliberate movement. The Threshen was still there. Waiting.